


Key Moments

by SilveryBeing



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, Stangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilveryBeing/pseuds/SilveryBeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What differences do our choices make?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Key Moments

~*bzzt*~

The streets of Glass Shard Beach were quiet in the rapidly settling night. Or at least mostly quiet, as the stillness was interrupted by the barking of stray dogs, the rumbling of a car, and the angry voices coming from above the pawn shop.

“This was no accident Stan! You did this!” Ford was practically shaking with fury, the incriminating toffee peanut bag wadded up in his fist. “You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!”

“Look, this was a mistake!” Stan had never seen Ford so angry before and his mind raced to find something to calm him down. Something to make this a happy accident. Something he was sure his brother wanted. “Although if you think about it, maybe there's a silver lining. Huh? Treasure hunting?” It was an old reminder, something Stan often brought up when Ford needed to be cheered up, needed reminding that they weren't going to be stuck here forever. Reminders that were often needed in this house.

But not this time.

Ford saw red. “Are you kidding me? Why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my entire future?!” He lunged at Stan, pushing him into the couch. His attack might have continued, continued to yell and blame and cry over a dream he only briefly held in his grasp while his brother just passively took the brunt of his punishment.

But Ford never got that chance before a shadow loomed over them and a strong fist grabbed Stan by the shirt, yanking him to his feet like his a child. “You did what you knuncklehead?!”

Stan's face turned to terror as he looked into his father's face. “W-wait, no, I can explain,” he stammered as he was pulled towards the door. “It was a mistake!”

Ford felt ice stabbing in his gut, a familiar feeling whenever Filbrick Pines' temper flared. It twisted and jabbed at him as he caught his brother's panicked eyes. For a moment, just the briefest moment, he didn't see Stan the teenager being dragged to the door, but a small six year old in a striped shirt being pulled away over some stupid mistake and would later have to explain why he was missing another tooth. It was just a mistake. A mistake. He didn't deserve it. None of this!

“Wait!” Ford grabbed his father's arm, trying to place himself between the man and his brother, blocking the way to the front door. “Dad what are you doing?”

If Filbrick was surprised by the sudden outburst it was hidden behind his dark glasses. “What I should have done ages ago. In case you haven't noticed, your brother Stanley just cost us a fortune and your college. Now get out of the way while I take out the trash.”

Ford noticed the order in which his father laid out his brother's offenses and seethed. “No,” he replied darkly. “You can't do that.”

Filbrick unceremoniously released his grip on Stan, not looking away from the older twin. “What was that?”

Ford had never challenged his father before, never stood up to him, never tried to find his eyes behind those dark lenses, and it took all his willpower to not tremble. “You can't throw him out, not over this. West Coast Tech isn't the only college in the world, but,” he risked a glance over at his stunned brother, “Stan is my only twin in the world.”

“So you think you can still make millions without that fancy school?” Filbrick jabbed a finger into Ford's chest. “Well, do you?”

Ford didn't give an inch. “Yes I do actually. If I can impress West Coast Tech from across the country without me even talking to them, then I can impress any of 'em. And I got a whole 'nother year to do it. All the Ivy League schools are on this side of the country and they'll be fighting over me. I got Princeton in my back pocket.”

Filbrick snorted and his face grew a dangerous grin. “Is that so? Fine. But I'm not paying a cent for your college. If you can't find something, both you AND your brother are out.” With that he turned sharply and left the twins alone in the living room.

Stanford watched him go and with him went his adrenaline. He suddenly felt weak in the knees and the reality of task he just placed both him and his twin in started to crash down around him.

“Ford...?” Stan steadied his brother by the shoulders. “You okay?”

It took him a moment but Ford eventually nodded. “Yeah, that was-urk.”

He was cut off by Stan squeezing him around the middle in a giant bear hug. “Oh my god Ford! You were amazing! Thank you! I'll make it up to you I promise!”

'You are awfully cheerful for someone who almost got thrown out,' Ford thought to himself as he was swung around. Stanley's miraculous ability to bounce back was still one of the mysteries Ford had yet to solve.

“I can't believe you stood up to him,” Stan continued gushing when he finally put his brother down. “He never just walked away when I tried. I thought he was going to deck you for sure. And here I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am mad at you Stan,” Ford sad quietly as he rubbed feeling back into his arms. “But I'm not THAT mad. Not like dad.” He looked at his twin with a kind smile. “You messed up big time but I don't want you on the streets.”

Stan went crestfallen. “Oh yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't think I'd like that either. It was just an accident but...I'm sorry.”

“I know,” Ford said simply as he and Stan walked to their shared room. What had once been spacious for two young children was now cramped with two teenagers. But this was the best they could do.

The desk in the corner was supposed to be for the both of them, but in practice it was Ford's space. He put his backpack on top of it and pulled out wads of glossy paper. “If you are serious about making it up to me,” He pushed the papers against Stan's chest, “Then you will help me find colleges for us to apply too.”

Stan struggled a moment to hold onto the pile and he realized they weren't just any papers, but brochures for colleges all over the country. “Of course!” Stan hugged the pamphlets to himself. “I'll help you find a college.”

“Not just me. _Us._ I don't care if you go to a damn trade school, but so help me Stan you are going to get an education.”

The brochures fell from Stan's arms “Ford that's crazy! I can't go to college. I'm not as smart as you.”

Ford shook his head as he laid out his school clothes for the next day. “You don't have to be as smart as me Stan. Most people aren't and they go to college just fine.”

Stan shook his head in disbelief. “No no, if dad won't pay for your school, he sure as hell won't pay for mine.”

“Then you better get a job or find some scholarships.” He looked over at Stan, the glow from the streetlamps illuminating his glasses. “This is part of the deal. You go to college too or we're not even.”

“R-right,” Stan fell to his knees to pick up wayward papers. “I'll uh...I'll actually do my homework. And I'll study too!” He paused to look at one of the pamphlets in his hands. “You really think I can do it? Even just a trade school?”

Ford clamored up to his top bunk before answering. “I wouldn't have told you too if I didn't think you could do it. You got personality Stan and there is a lot you can do in the world with that. You just need to hone it up a bit.”

Stanley felt something prick behind his eyes but he wiped his arm across his face before anything could come of it. Instead he fell into his bottom bunk, brochures spread across the blankets. They would be his constant companion for the next few weeks, but right now he was just going to read a few of them before bed.

Ford smiled to himself as he listened to the rustling paper beneath him. This could work. Sure, West Coast Tech would have been nice, but it was also nice to see his brother actually apply himself to something. And Ford knew that when Stan Pine applied himself to something it would take heaven and hell's combined forces to stop him.

Ford was just about to go to sleep when his eyes caught something he had taped to his wall. Years ago Ford had applied all kinds of tables and diagrams and some scientific posters on the wall next to his bunk in order to have easy references when he studied. But that wasn't what he was looking at now. He was looking at a picture, a picture he knew well despite the faint light. It was him and Stan as kids at the beach, working on their boat. He reached out and touched it. Maybe...maybe after college. After both of them graduated with degrees...

“That would be nice...”

~*bzzt*~

The cold bit through Stanley's jacket as he made his way towards the cabin. He wasn't prepared for this kind of weather. He had previously been hundreds of miles south where the gloves, hat, and coat he had stolen were enough to keep him warm enough to sleep at night. The Oregon winter was more brutal than he realized and it was only because of the vague desperate summons from his brother that he braved the snow.

Plus he figured it would only be for a few moments. Stanford wouldn't have him come all this way only to leave him outside right? If he needed him this badly he'd obviously needed him inside too. Yeah, that made sense.

But despite the chill seeping into his bones, Stan hesitated. He pulled out the postcard to read it again. Not that there was much to read, but the desperate scrawl of PLEASE COME over the paper reassured Stan that his brother wanted him and he was doing the right thing.

“Hokay,” he breathed as he put the postcard away and started to knock, “You haven't seen your brother in over ten years. It's okay. He's family. He won't bite.”

The door almost immediately cracked open and Ford's unkempt face appeared in the shadows. There was no sense that he recognized the person on his front porch. “Who is it?” His voice cracked with panic and a loaded crossbow was in his hands and pointed at the other man. “Have you come to steal my eyes?!”

Stan has had a variety of weapons pointed his way over the years, but he had to admit that the crossbow was new. “Well I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

At the sound of his twin's voice, Ford lowered the crossbow, finally recognizing who was before him. “Stanley? Did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

Stan raised an eyebrow of concern. This wasn't what he expected, usually he was the one in Ford's position, starting at every sudden move and convinced death by knife point was around every corner. But he wasn't about to let his twin know that. “Eh, hello to you too pal-ah!”

One moment Stan was outside freezing and the next he was yanked through the door with a bright light shining directly into his eyes in a way uncomfortably reminiscent of the eye exams he had as a kid and was decades behind on.

He shoved against Ford and blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes against the afterimages. “Hey, what is this?”

Ford backed away, tucking the penlight into a pocket. “Sorry, I just had to make sure you weren't...it's nothing. Come in, come in.” He waved for Stan to follow him.

Now that Stan could finally see more clearly, he realized following his brother was easier said than done. The whole house appeared to be piled floor to ceiling with all kinds of books, papers, and strange taxidermied beasts that he took extra care to step around. “You gonna explain what's going on here? You're acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” It was supposed to be a lighthearted joke, to remind them of their shared past. But it fell flavorless on his tongue.

Ford stopped suddenly and turned back to Stan, holding a thick red book with a golden hand on the cover, a hand with six fingers Stan noted. He also now realized just how truly terrible his twin looked. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept in days, his hair unwashed and his face unshaved, his clothes dirty and wrinkled. And his shaking could have just as easily been from hunger as it was from as fear. What had happened to the family genius? Who did he cross? Only on his worse days did Stan's reflection in the mirror beat what he was seeing in his brother.

“Listen, there isn't much time,” Ford voice cut through Stan's thoughts. “I've made a huge mistake and I don't know who I can trust.” He hugged the book to himself and his eyes glanced towards the dark corners, of which there were many in the overstuffed cabin.

“Hey, easy there,” Stan said soothingly. “Let's talk through this okay?” He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, just an easy reassuring touch.

Ford had words on the tip of his tongue. He was going to talk about what had built, what he risked, that damn deal he made and how he could only trust his brother to take the proof of it far far away. But at the touch on his shoulder, the only human contact he had in months and from the person he spent most of his life with, through his strongest and weakest moments, made something bubble inside Ford. It crawled up his throat, choking his words into sobs, and leaked out of his eyes.

He had been so afraid, so cold, so alone. But now his big strong brother was here, the one who chased off the bullies and got him back to his feet. The one that shared his hot chocolate and blankets in the middle of winter. The one that kept him company while he studied though he never said why. And now that brother was there when he needed him most.

“Ford!” Stan cried out in alarm as his twin collapsed to his knees, hugging the book to his chest, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders.

Ford tried to compose himself, to shake off these emotions and get back to business. The portal was dangerous and he needed to focus. But the heart pounding in his chest refused to be ignored. “I need you Stan...” He managed to choke out.

Stan was on his knees next to his twin, rubbing his back. “I know. I'm here to help you. Come on, let's go to the kitchen and you can tell me what's going on okay? I won't judge, I've gotten into a lot of trouble myself.” He smiled reassuringly.

Ford's mind was screaming at him about the portal, about Bill, about how the last book needed to be hidden. But instead the word out of his mouth was a weak “Okay.”

Stanley helped Ford back to his feet and supported him as they walked to the kitchen, unknowingly going further away from the secret portal.

The emptiness of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. But that didn't mean it was clean. While there was no piles of papers or weird body parts in jars, it was covered in a film of dust. The only thing that looked like it was ever touched was the coffee pot located near the door, its used filters and grounds spilling onto the floor.

Stan gently sat his brother down on a chair and started to rummage for anything that looked safe to eat. The fridge reeked of something stomach churning and the pantry had more pests than food in it. But there was at least a couple packs of untouched ramen in the cupboard. Good. That he knew how to work with. “Ford when was the last time you ate?” He asked as he grimaced at the mold growing in a pot.

“Huh?” Ford jerked up around groggily from the chair he was slumped in. “Um, I don't know. A few days...maybe?”

Stan almost dropped the soap he was using to scrub the pot. “What?!” Stan himself was no stranger to hunger, but that's because he was poor and on the street. Ford had a house, an education, how could he just not eat?

Ford didn't answer and Stan didn't say anything else until the water and noodles where on the stove. “So,” Stanley started as he sat down across from his twin. “We said we were going to talk, so...you're in trouble.”

Ford was still holding the book to his chest and nodded.

“Was doing some research on some nerd thing and now you know too much?”

Ford nodded again.

“Made a bad deal with the wrong people?”

Ford visibly winced. “How did you-”

Stan shrugged. “I haven't been scrapping barnacles off the saltwater taffy stand for the past ten years Ford,” he said, idly rubbed his arm where a nasty scar was hidden by his jacket. “The look you are giving me now is one I've seen in myself once or twice. But unlike you I didn't have anyone to turn to for help. I had to get myself out of trouble.”

Ford looked down at the table sullenly. “Sorry...”

Stan jerked up in the chair. “Ah, I wasn't saying that to make you feel bad. What I meant was that whatever trouble you are in I know how to get you out. I've done it before and I can do it again.”

Ford silently doubted that. Bill Cipher was greater than any gangster or criminal that Stanley had gotten on the wrong side of. But another part of him, a warm glowing part that had previously been cold and quiet, believed in Stan. His brother's matter of fact confidence gave Ford much needed strength and a tinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, Stan could save him from Bill.

Ford was thinking about this when he noticed something fragrant was placed before him. It was a steaming bowl of ramen.

“I managed to find a clean bowl and spoon,” Stan said from his side. “Now eat up before it gets cold, I don't need you collapsing on me.”

The soup did smell good and his stomach growled with the renewed memory of food. But if he was going to eat he'd have to put down his journal.

Stan noticed his brother's hesitation. “Ford, what did ma always say? No books while you eat.” He held his hand out for the journal, an almost perfect imitation of the boys' mother.

It was more out of the instinct that the words resurfaced than out of any true desire that caused Ford to hand the book to Stan. He quietly went to slurping the ramen, the flavor of salt and heat exploding on his tongue and warming his body. After the first couple sips he started to eat in earnest.

Stan resumed his seat and flipped through the pages of the journal. Stanley was prepared for just about anything: government secrets, corporate blackmail, doomsday science. But what he found still shocked him. The entries in the front seemed normal enough, but near the back they became more and more deranged. Codes, diagrams, and...was that blood?!

Stan looked up at his brother who was still eating. Was he in trouble with some sort of cult? That's what it looked like. Not that anything changed, Stan was still going to help him get out of this mess. Or...was this all in Ford's head? Did the isolation get to him and he developed paranoia just from the creepy woods he lived in and the bizarre work he did? Stanley pushed that thought out of his mind immediately. This was Stanford Pines, he wouldn't jump at just any shadow unless there was a reason. And besides, even if it was all in Ford's head then all the more reason to get him out of here where his fears were reinforced. No matter the reason for Ford's current state, Stan knew had to get his brother out of this cabin, that much was clear.

Ford was practically licking the bowl when Stan slide the book towards him. The sound of the cover scrapping over the wood caused Ford to look up startled, as if he didn't remember giving the journal to Stanley.

The now empty bowl flew across the room and cracked on the wall as Ford threw himself over the journal and shrank back into his chair, curling around the journal as if to protect it. He eyed his twin untrustingly before the memory of asking Stan to come here in the first place started to dawn on his face. “Did you read it?”

Stan held up his hands before him. “It's what you wanted to show me right?” He said, avoiding answering directly.

Ford's mouth opened and closed a few times. “No. Yes. I-I don't know anymore.” He looked down at the cover, not recognizing his reflection in the metal plate. “I think I'm going crazy Stan. I don't know what's real. I'm afraid to sleep. I'm afraid to run away. I need to get rid of this journal but I'm afraid I'll do it wrong. That it won't be enough. That it's too late to fix what I did.” He started to rock back and forth in his chair, the journal hugged to his chest again.

Stan got up and crouch to be at eye level with Ford. “And that's why your brother is here. To help you fix this.” He put a hand on each shoulder. “And we will. Trust me.”

Ford felt the tears roll down his face before he realized he was crying. He couldn't trust anyone. No one but his brother. No one was as reliable as Stanley Pines. “Okay,” he choked, wiping a sleeve over his eyes.

Stan stood up straighter and looked back towards the rest of the cabin. “First thing's first. We're going to get out here. Tonight.”

Ford started, jumping to his feet though the sudden movement had him stumbling against his twin. “What?! No. I can't. He's looking for me.”

“Exactly. If this is where who ever it is is looking for you, it stands to reason you should be anywhere BUT here. I know how to disappear Ford, you won't be found.”

While the much needed nutrients did help his mental facilities, Ford's brain was still struggling to grind out how that made sense concerning Bill. “I guess...but I have things here that can't be found. And its too big too-”

“Don't worry bro,” Stan interrupted with a sly grin. “When I'm done, there won't be _anything_ of you left to find. Now, where is your bedroom, you shouldn't leave everything behind.”

In what felt like a moment later Ford was in Stan's passenger seat, his clothes and few personal belongings shoved into the back with the rest of Stan's things. The journal was on his lap but it was a piece of paper on top of it that he was running his fingers over. He glanced out the window towards the cabin. Stanley said it would only take a few minutes, but every second his brother was still inside the cabin filled Ford with dread. What if his brother accidentally found the lab? What if he accidentally turned on the portal? Ford was barely functioning now, he didn't know what he would do if he lost his brother now.

It wasn't until he spotted Stanley appear on the porch and locked the door behind him did he breath easily again.

“Alright,” Stan said as he got in the driver's side and turned the ignition. “It will look like an electrical fire. It'll burn hot and there won't be much to salvage. You had enough human parts in there, don't what to know why, to make it look like you died in there.” The car pulled away from the cabin and onto the road. “We have a few hours head start before the smoke becomes noticeable and this whole area draws the fire and police. So keep your head down so no one wonders why you in here and not back there.”

Ford nodded as the old car drove down the empty road. He wondered, and maybe even hoped, if the portal would burn up too. Probably not entirely, but it would be severely damaged. Could it be repaired? The real question might be if it could be salvaged enough to even be repaired. And by Ford's calculations it wasn't likely. There goes Bill's plans, up in smoke. That thought put a smile on his face and affirmed that he made the right choice for once when he wrote that postcard. He just had to trust Stan. His brother would take care of him.

“Thankfully this Gravity whatever place is in the middle of no where so its likely not to get investigated.” Stan continued as he drove. “But we need to think of our next step. Portland is a good city to hide in, but I'm also not banned from California. I know you want to be rid of that book, so do you have a preference?”

Ford look down at the paper on top of the journal. “Actually, I was thinking...” He held it up to show Stan.

Stand glanced over to see his own face many decades younger. It was him and Ford as children, working on their old boat back in New Jersey. “D-do you mean it?” Stan's face brightened with hope.

Ford nodded. “Remember what you said? We'll sail away from this dumb town? I think we should do that now.”

Stan didn't fool himself that this would be a perfect solution. Ford had a lot of things in his mind to deal with and there was still the ten years lost between them. But it WAS a plan and it would get them away from whatever trouble Ford was in. And they would be together to deal with whatever happened next. Stan knew they could and whatever bad things were going on, it would all soon be behind them.

“I did say that didn't I,” Stan grinned. “Alright, we'll take this car to the coast and trade it in for a boat. Then we'll sail away like we were always meant too.”

“Yeah,” Ford smiled as he touched the photograph again. “That would be nice...”

~*bzzt*~

The light was blinding. Even his goggles weren't able to fully shield his eyes. Yet despite his inability to see, Ford instinctively knew where this portal would lead. Over the decades he had heard that beings would always know when a portal lead to their native realm, it was a deep seated connection that could never be severed and would tug them home whenever the path lay clear.

Stanford had always dismissed that idea, the notion that a person held some sort of special metaphysical link to their native plane smacked more of romanticism than hard science. And yet...and yet he was feeling drawn to the portal for reasons he couldn't put into words. His mind's eye conjured the image of pale blue dot of a world, crossed with green and speckled with white. His heart was pounding with longing and he could practically taste the sweet sweet air of Earth. His Earth.

He was already walking towards the light, his vision getting more and more pained by the second, when his brain screamed and yelled at what this sudden portal to Earth _meant_.

It meant Stanley had managed to fix the portal.

It meant he also might have created a way for Bill to get through.

It meant that his brother hadn't forgotten about him even after all these years.

It meant there was a rift where there never should have been one.

Ford's feet slowed at those thoughts but didn't stop. He would never be able to bring himself to stop. The taste of Earth had ignited a spark and only the portal could quench it.

But he was still concerned. And angry. A rift would spell doom for Earth and its entire dimension. Would Ford be arriving home just to witness the apocalypse? The anger blazed in his chest at the thought. He would have to fix Stan's messes of course, but he was going to make absolutely sure that the severity of this accident got through his brother's thick skull first.

And with that decision firm in his mind, Ford let the light envelop him.

And he stepped into darkness.

The sudden transition made Ford stop short as he struggled to catch his bearings. The feeling of his native plane, the feeling of rightness and familiarity, washed over him like a cleansing wave, confirming that yes he was indeed home. He blinked a few times, trying to banish the afterimages as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the...cave? No, not cave. More like a basement.

His basement. It had to be. It had been decades since he had last been in this basement of course, but he had spent so many years previously working and studying there that he could recognize the musty smell anywhere.

But the scent was the only recognizable thing in this expansive room. As his vision cleared Ford was able to see a little by the lingering glow from the portal behind him. Broken metal, severed wires, and shattered glass crunched under his boots, echos of the explosion that brought him home. Ford took mental note of that. Stan must have rushed the activation for such a violent outcome. Another thing to add to the list of his brother's offenses.

There was one thing that stood out among the wreckage, though if it hadn't been in his direct path Ford would have missed it. But the shine of gold caught his eye. At his feet was a journal, a golden hand standing out against the red binding. His heart quickened as he placed his palm over the cover, his six fingers matching the metallic plate perfectly. This was _his_ journal. Thirty years gone and his journal was still waiting for him.

As he placed the journal in his coat pocket, a faint murmur of voices reached his ears. Of course, Stanley would be here, he activated the portal after all. Ford was forced to remove his goggles and scarf in order to see better, the tint on the lenses now more of a hindrance than a help as he scanned the basement. Where was Stanley? Better to get this done and over with so he could get to containing that rift.

“Finally!” A voice that seemed both familiar and strange called out. “After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!”

Ford froze as he finally saw his long lost brother. 'He got old.' Well of course he did, logically speaking. They were twins after all, Stanley would be just as gray haired as he was. Yet over the intervening decades Ford never thought of his twin as old, even as he himself aged. He always kept picturing Stan as young with brown hair and not enough sense. Not this old man with pain weathered into his features.

Wait, no...there was one part that was still young.

His eyes. Stanley's eyes looked at him with the same hope and happiness and love that Ford hadn't seen since they were children. Not since he found Stan's encouraging face in the crowd during the statewide spelling bee, banishing Ford's stage fright. Not since Stan would read to him when he was home sick, even doing voices that made Ford laugh inbetween his coughing. Not since...not since the last time they worked on the Stan O' War and they planned their route and made a toast to the stars with their stolen beer towards their future on the sea. That had been so long ago...

“...Stanley?” Ford's voice croaked from lack of use, the fist he had made in preparation loosening. “Stanley is it really you?”

Stanley's eye brimmed with tears as he kept his arms out invitingly. “You know it Sixer.”

Something inside Ford cracked at the sound of his old childhood nickname. It was the piece of logic he had grasped before coming through the portal, the piece that reminded him about the rift, the piece he now cast aside. Stanley spent years to get the portal working and Ford was going to do what? Punch him? What good would that do?

Instead Ford fell into his brother's welcoming embrace. “Lee...” His voice broke as he hugged his brother. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too bro.” Stan's voice broke as he hugged his brother tight.

Ford could have stayed in that hug for as long as it took to make up for forty years of bad blood, but the faint sounds of shuffling feet caused him to jerk backwards as if shocked. “What is that? Who’s there?” Had one of Bill's goons followed him through the portal already? No, not now. He just got back. Not now!

“Woah, calm down Ford,” Stan said as soothingly as he could, gently placing a hand on Ford's arm, simultaneously trying to calm him and prevent him from drawing the pistol he already had his hand on. “It’s okay, they're family. We're safe.”

Ford looked past his brother, his eyes wild and panicked before he saw the source of the sounds. The 'family' Stan spoke of but Ford didn't know. It was a young boy and girl, alike enough to be siblings. They appeared to be the same age too so did that mean they were twins as well? They had the Pines Family look, brown hair, inquisitive eyes, and apparently no fear. Coming up behind was some large...hairless gopher?

All three were staring at Ford in wide eyed astonishment and the rapt attention made Ford take a hesitant step back from Stan. Nothing good ever came from being stared at, not where he had been. “Umm...hi?”

The girl smiled and opened her mouth to say something but was waved quiet by Stan. “We can make introductions later. I think my brother needs to take a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings.” He pointed to the gopher man. “Soos, take the kids to watch the monitors, the feds are still out there.”

“But Grunkle Stan-!” The boy protested.

“Of course Grunkle Stan! You and your bro-bro keep hugging it out and we'll watch for any of those agents.” The girl gave a wink before turning to her brother. “You still got that memory gun right? We can blast any agent that gets too close with it.”

For his part the gopher man saluted Stan. “You got it Mr. Pines. Come on dudes, lets let these two catch up.”

The gopher and the girl had to forcefully drag the boy away but soon the two brothers were left alone. Ford collapsed onto a broken beam, exhausted.

“Sorry about that Ford,' Stan said as he sat next to his twin. “This day did not go as I had planned. I didn't mean to spring all that on you like that.”

“It's okay, it happens.” Ford said. He taps his fingers on his knees awkwardly.

“They're good kids, you'll like 'em.” Stan said in an effort to fill in the silence. “Mabel and Dipper, your great niece and nephew. Dipper found one of your journals actually, he's a big fan. And I'm sure Mabel will be too, she loves everyone. And the big guys is Soos, been working for me since he was the twins' age, this place would be in shambles without him. I'll try to make sure they go easy on ya, at least for the first few days.” Stan laughed nervously, giving his brother a friendly nudge. “No promises after that.”

Ford was only half listening as his mind struggled to sift through potential words and their outcomes. He knew he needed to say something but wasn't exactly sure what, and he had a feeling that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. The trick was to find where to start in order to get it all out. “Stan I'm...I'm sorry.”

Whatever Stanley was expecting to hear, that was not it. “What?! No wait, what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who pushed you into the portal.”

Was that how he remembered it? Ford shook his head slowly. “No. I should have taken the time to listen to you. I invited from across the country into my home, asked for your help, and I didn't even bother to consider what you said.” He took out the journal and laid it on his lap, but didn't open it. “I think the universe was trying to tell me something, the warnings were all there. Bill was always shady, Fiddleford walked out, and then you show up with a lighter telling me to burn the damn things. But I couldn't see. I don't know if it was pride, or stubbornness, or denial. But if I had just recognized the warnings none of this would have happened.”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You weren't in your right mind. I should have been more patient. I was angry but you obviously weren't doing too well, I should have focused more on that then myself. I'm sorry.”

Ford gave his brother a weak smile. “The Pines family have never been known for patience.” A glance towards the computer area proved that, with the boy in the hat peering over the now broken window sill. “There is something else I'm sorry for.”

“What's that?”

Ford had to take a breath before he spoke. “I'm sorry I ever doubted you. And not just about the journal, but that I doubted...I don't really know how to put this.” He awkwardly waved a hand to indicated the still dimming portal behind them. “You got that dreaded thing up and running even though it took decades. I remember how seriously you took high school, I didn't think...never mind. I was wrong and I'm sorry I didn't think you'd stick around just for my mangy hide, not after our fight...both of them.” His voice trailed off and he nervously twisted his fingers together.

Stan stared at his twin. “Ford, you're my brother,” He put his hands on Ford's shoulders, making him look at him. “Of course I'd do anything for my family. Anything. Just cause we had a few fights doesn't make us any less brothers.” Stan's shoulders slumped. “And I'm sorry for back then too, with your project.”

“I don't want you to worry about that anymore,” Ford smiled. “You more than made up for any accidents or mistakes you've made. Heck, maybe I'm the one who has to make it up to you now.” He half turned to Stan and held his hands opens. “I guess what I'm really trying to say is...thank you, for everything.”

Stanley's eyes watered before he threw himself at Ford, hugging him even tighter than before. He sobbed something into his brother's coat that Ford wasn't quite able to make out, but he was able to grasp the sentiment. This had been long broken road for his twin, Ford could practically feel it as his brother's tears melted into his coat. Too many years, too many false starts, too many hopes to dust, but it was only now that the finish line had been crossed that Stanley could allow himself to feel any of it. And Ford let him, rubbing his back like their mother used to when the night wasn't nearly as dark as their dreams.

Eventually Stan sat up straighter, brushing his eyes and trying not to hiccup. “That didn't go how I pictured it,” he said a little embarrassed.

Of course Stan would have played this moment out in his head a million times by now. Ford had given up on that idea of being reunited with his family so many years ago. He had to be more concerned about staying one step ahead of Bill and that did not leave time to wonder wistfully about what might be happening back on Earth, to even dare to hold a tentative sliver of hope that the next portal would place him under familiar blue skies. It wasn't worth it. He already had to deal with smuggling himself into strange worlds, keeping himself alive one more day in order to right the mistakes he made a lifetime ago. Why add the ache in his heart to that?

But as it was maybe he should have allowed himself the indulgence, because right now Stanford knew he wasn't feeling the full brunt of finally being home after so many years. He wasn't sure what to feel or what to think. A few hours, a few days...the last piece of the puzzle would eventually fall into place and Ford would mirror his twin's reaction. But right now it was probably for the best that it was all still being processed. He would be able to focus in the rift.

Ford's eye suddenly went wide. “The rift!” How could he have let that slip his mind? Being home meant nothing if Bill could easily break through and destroy it!

“The wha now?”

“It's nothing you need-” Ford cut himself off. If his twin was able to work the portal then he deserved to be kept in the loop. “I believe that when the portal opened it tore into more of the fabric of time and space than it was meant too, creating a rift that other beings can use to slip into our world.”

Stan's face fell. “I should have known I'd have screwed up somehow. I was never the family genius.”

Ford put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “No Stan, this has nothing to do with you. It was an inherent flaw in its design that I couldn't conquer. That's why I had to write warnings...” He trailed off as he frowned in confusion. “I did write warnings didn't I?” He was sure he did but that had been so many years ago under great mental strain that he couldn't say he remembered actually putting the pen to ink.

Stan crossed his arms and glared. “If you mean the invisible ink business then sure. Which, by the way, I only discovered a couple weeks ago ALONG WITH the third journal which held most of those tiny details.”

Ford looked away and fiddled with his coat awkwardly. Now it was coming back to him. “Right...a little late to back out at that point. I'm sorry, this is all my fault. Warnings are kinda useless if they are tucked away where no one can see them. I can fix this mess. I know how to contain the rift, you shouldn't have to worry about it, it's my responsibility.”

Stan opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Mabel's voice. “Grunkle Stan! I think those creepy feds know about the vending machine!”

Stan swore under his breath and got up from the beam. “Don't worry sweetie, we'll do something!” He turned to Ford. “You got any ideas?”

Ford leapt to his feet and followed his brother to the terminals. “Of course, it will be simple enough to re-tune the memory gun's frequency and hook it up to your computers down here to blast the whole area above our heads. Let's see, I should have a cable here that should...” He started to rummage through his pockets before pulling out a blue glowing cord. But even as he passed it to Dipper's eager hands he seemed distracted.

He could have sworn he felt something else in his pockets. While the rest of the family was busy hooking up the memory gun, he pulled out what felt like a slip of paper, lightly wrinkled and old. The blinking monitor lights played over the glossy surface, illuminating the smiling face of his younger self on a far away beach with his brother and their ship of dreams.

He continued to stare at it even as the high pitched whine of the memory gun reverberated floors above him. In a few moments he would be upstairs committing a federal offense by impersonating an agent, some moments later that he would be in the living room telling the children about his and Stan's past, and many moments after that he would be in his old room, laying awake trying to figure out what happens next.

But right now, right now in _this_ moment, he was recalling a forgotten hope from a different time. To go sailing around the world. To find mysteries and see the beauty of Earth that he had always taken for granted. To spend time with his brother, to get to know the family he had nearly lost decades ago but still was there to pull him back.

He lightly touched the glossy image. “That would be nice...”

~*bzzt-kssssh*~

Ford held down the Off button longer than was strictly necessary. The screen of the device still went black, reflecting nothing but Ford's pained face.

He collapsed back into his chair and held his head in his hands. His theory had proven sound: he could use salvaged parts from the portal hooked up to the screens in his private study to view alternate realities without risk of travel. It was a complicated build and syncing the frequencies of different realities had taken up yet another sleepless night.

But at the time Ford did it because he wanted to _know_. Not _knowing_ had been driving him up the wall. He had to _know_ what were the real odds that Stanley's memories would fully return. He had just wanted to look at other realities and see how many Stan's regained what Ford had taken from him versus how many never did. The statistics would tell him if he should hold out hope for a glimmer of recognition in his brother's eyes or if he should just let it go and resign himself with the fact that he was right.

But once the static fuzz cleared, instead of images of an old Stan in a roughed up shack, Ford only saw images of himself. Himself as young, himself as old, but most importantly himself in moments he had already lived making decisions he never did.

They were moments that made a difference. Key moments where destiny took a different path because Stanford followed his heart instead of his head.

Ford continued to hold his own head as the emotions he had always pushed away bubbled up in his throat. He took a shuttering breath as his logic tried to wrestle for control, an instinctual reaction to his emotions that he had decades of practice with. It had been that reaction that kept him alive on the other side of the portal, he never would have survived in those strange and alien worlds without a calm mind. But he wasn't lost to those blind eternities anymore. He was safe, and when he was safe he could think.

It used to be easy to deny his past, his guilt, his regret. Mask it and bury it and do his damned best to forget it. He told himself he had no choice over what had happened. It was his father, it was Bill, it was Stan. They had acted and he had no agency to stop them. He told himself he had no choices and so should have no guilt. But he couldn't anymore, not with it having his past played out in vivid detail before his eyes. He could have always chosen, he just chose to turn his back. He was now able to see this choices without the veil of time and distorted memories to obscure the truth. And his choices had more consequences than he ever wanted to admit.

His resolve weakened and the feelings of guilt and regret roared within him. And it scared him. He was afraid of drowning under an ocean of the despair and pain that he had locked away. He had tried so long to not feel pain that he had forgotten what pain even felt like.

He tentatively touched the hot tears on his cheeks. He had also forgotten what it felt like to cry. He had many opportunities in his past, but he never allowed himself before now. To his shock, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. He expected a twisting knot in his stomach, that kind always seem to be right on the heels of his unwelcomed emotions. Instead it felt...good. Unexpectedly good. He felt like his pain long buried was being washed away and taken far out to sea. Was this what he had been missing that his other selves knew? Did they figure this out years ago? That he shouldn’t keep holding onto his cold clinical side whenever things got hard? He saw that now, in multiple ways. He needed his emotions, to be soft and warm. They weren't burdens or obstructions, sometimes they were the path he needed to take to find the right answer.

He let himself cry for a long time, he had no reference for how long, but long enough that his throat went dry and his eyes were sore. But he needed to be rid of every guilt and regret and anger and and...and just everything from the past 40 years. All of it, all that poison in his heart he convinced himself was strength. Now that he saw another way he wanted it all gone.

He eventually looked up and caught a glance at the screen, his reflection showing blood shot eyes. Those eyes fell back to the power switch and he was almost tempted to turn it on again.

Could there be another Stanford in another Gravity Falls whose heart had been so hardened that even after what happened he was kicking his weakened brother out of his home? This Ford hoped he would never catch a glimpse of _that_ Ford or he wouldn't be able to fight the urge to remake the portal simply to teach that Ford a very valuable lesson. He never wanted to be _that_ Ford. Not ever again.

The wheels in his mind turned and he tried to separate out the thoughts he need to be thinking right now. The cold hard thoughts that told him Stan would never regain his memories and it was best to just move on were pushed aside. Beneath them he found the warmth of thoughts that told him to trust in his family, to show patience, and to give kindness. One was a choice to stay, the other was a choice to walk away.

No, he would rather be like those other versions of himself. And if they could do it, so could he. They all were the same person after all, separated by the thin film of their choices. He just needed to follow their example. Ford reached into a pocket, fishing for something he hoped he still had.

Maybe planning this far head when his brother was still in the grips of amnesia could be called unwise, but Stan had already shown marked improvement even after the first day. And maybe trying to figure out the statics of Stan's recovery was also unwise, but Ford wouldn't call it time wasted.

Ford finally found what he was looking for, carefully unfolding it as if afraid it might tear if not handled with the gentleness it deserved. He smiled at the memory frozen in time.

This time Ford made the choice to stay.

That was his choice right here, right now in the basement of a broken down shack in the middle of nowhere Oregon. He was going to build and repair what had been broken. It wasn't going to be an easy choice to navigate; too many years had built up too many instincts he'd have to tear down. But he felt an odd sense of confidence about this, not the normal twisting and stabbing in his gut whenever he made a choice regarding his brother. He took that as a sign he was doing the right thing.

He didn't care how long it took for Stanley to regain his memories, a week, a month, a year. It didn't matter. Cause once Stan did recover, and he would, Ford knew what he wanted to do next.

He lightly brushed off the lint off the shiny surface and chuckled to himself. “They were right...it would be nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This fic has been in the works for months after the first scene came to my head soon after the finale and I couldn’t help but expand upon it. Honestly I'm pretty nervous since its been ages since I've written fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed it!


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